Life Happens

by Sandra Steffen

  “Consanguinity.”

  She looked sideways at him. “I don’t even know what the hell it means but it sounds like you just dropped a tin on a cement floor.”

  “It means a close relation or connection.”

  She swore her heart skipped a beat, and it was really starting to tick her off. It was Wednesday. He’d been over every evening this week. Tonight, she was going to tell him to take a hike, figuratively, not the kind they’d just taken to the ocean’s edge and back.

  “Sounds like Kaylie’s still crying,” he said as they neared the house.

  Tell him, she said to herself. Get rid of him. Just do it. He’s not that great.

  So what if he was the smartest guy she’d ever met? And that attitude. It was almost as bad as hers. That didn’t mean she liked him.

  “Irk,” he said.

  “Good one. Humid.” For crying out loud, what was wrong with her?

  She knew what was wrong with her. And it began with a big fat capital C. A disease like hers should have been called something offensive that made a person gag just saying it. Scientists never should have called it Cancer, the name of a beautiful constellation, and an astrological sign indicating sensitivity and intuitiveness. Cancer wasn’t intuitive. It was invasive and vile and vulgar.

  As much as she and Oliver had talked this week, they hadn’t discussed her disease. But he had to know. A guy who dropped words like consanguinity would have noticed how thin her hair was, and surmised the reason.

  “Surmise,” she said.

  He smiled. And her goddamn throat closed up.

  “Vegetable.”

  She came perilously close to giggling, and Elle hadn’t giggled in a long, long time.

  “Listen,” he said.

  “What’s wrong with listen?”

  “No. Listen.”

  She did as he said, and she heard the ocean and bird-song and leaves rustling overhead. She didn’t hear Kaylie crying.

  This week Kaylie had decided she was going to walk. She wasn’t ready to walk, and every time she fell, she got mad and cried. She’d been fussy all week. Even the cat had grown wary of her and now spent most of his time under Elle’s bed where it was safe. Yesterday, Kaylie finally cut a back tooth. Today, she was working on another one. Sometimes rocking her helped. Sometimes nothing did. Tonight, Dean had taken over, and after shooting Oliver a stern and meaningful look, he’d insisted they get some fresh air.

  Through the window she could see Dean walking around the room. Kaylie had finally relaxed on his shoulder. He was good with her. Elle had been noticing it all week. All the Lakers were good with her. Mya was, too. But Dean had a way with Kaylie.

  Tears stung Elle’s eyes.

  She reached a hand to the back of her neck just above her hairline and felt the new lump. It reminded her that another day was almost over, and she still had a lot to do. She would be starting treatment again soon. She dreaded it almost as much as she dreaded d—

  No. She wouldn’t think about that.

  She’d promised she would take the treatments. And a promise was a promise.

  It all sucked, but that was beside the point.

  Rather than risk going inside and unsettling Kaylie, she sat on the top step. It felt good to rest a moment, and she sighed.

  Oliver chose a spot a few feet away. “Effervesce,” he said.

  She shrugged.

  “Durable,” he said. “Aluminum. Whirlpool. Disheveled.”

  She couldn’t believe she smiled. “You know a lot of annoying words.” It figured. “What are you going to college to be?”

  “What do you think?”

  That was the thing about Oliver. He made her think. “A rocket scientist?”

  He made a guy kind of sound. “I’m studying architecture, but I’m going to be a writer.”

  She looked at him. “Of books?”

  He shrugged in that universal guy way. “Maybe. More likely of screenplays.”

  He had dreams. She tried to remember the last time she’d had dreams, then stopped herself. She had a better idea. Taking a deep breath for courage, she said, “You should write a screenplay about a baby conceived on an island off the coast of Maine.”

  She could feel him looking at her, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. Pretending a fascination with the ocean, she said, “This baby was born in Brunswick, and was held only once by her young birth mother before being placed for adoption.”

  A lot of guys would have asked a bunch of stupid questions. Oliver just looked at her. Perhaps that was why she continued.

  “Her parents moved their perfect little family to Pennsylvania when she was still a baby. She had an idyllic life until her mother died and her father was so lost he remarried a year later. From then on everything pretty much went to hell for the girl. She became a wild child, experimenting with just about everything. She got pregnant, and when she told her boyfriend, he was beyond shocked. Like he hadn’t been there, you know? But he promised to stick by her. And she thought everything would be all right because she had love.”

  The wind crooned, stirring up a breeze that rustled the collar of her lightweight shirt. Waves broke, crashing against the shore. And Elle said, “They talked about their options and decided on the best one. He held her hand in the waiting room of the abortion clinic. She was shivering, and every sound was magnified, even the echoes. Especially the echoes. And she realized the sounds were coming from inside, and the echoes were the emptiness she would always feel if she went through with it.”

  Elle finally looked at Oliver, but her gaze wandered to the ocean again. “She sat so still on the vinyl chair, and he continued to hold her cold, cold hand. When the nurse finally called her name, she and her boyfriend stood. She was shaking, so he held her, and he told her everything would be okay. It would all be over soon. He said it only once, but it echoed. And echoed. And echoed. And instead of following the nurse, she made a mad run for the door.

  “He was right about one thing,” Elle said. “It was all over very soon. As soon as she told him she’d changed her mind and was going to have the baby, to be exact. Oh, he stuck around for a couple more weeks, but they argued all the time. He never wanted a kid, he said. And one day he went out. And she knew he wouldn’t be coming back.

  “And she was so scared. So alone. The hardest part was when she told her dad, and she saw the disappointment in his wise, sad eyes. He tried to help, but he had kids of his own, and an unhappy wife. Every day the girl wondered if she had done the right thing. Then a miracle happened. She felt a flutter. Life! She couldn’t freaking stop smiling, and she knew she’d been right in the beginning, when she’d been sure everything was going to be okay because she had love. She loved her baby. And she’d made the right decision. Come what may.”

  From the corner of her eye, she could see Oliver’s Adam’s apple moving. He had a long, skinny neck. She’d forgotten he was a nerd.

  “That sounds like a controversial movie,” he said. “Gripping and moving and thought-provoking. I like it.”

  Now why the hell did that make her want to grin like an f’ing idiot?

  “Then what happens?” he asked.

  “She has her baby. The most beautiful and smartest little girl ever born. And she knows it won’t be easy, but life is good because she has love.”

  She met Oliver’s gaze. Neither spoke, but she knew enough about guys to know when one was getting ideas. Any second now he was going to kiss her.

  Elle leaned closer. Inviting trust and perhaps intimacy, she whispered, “Want to know how the story ends?”

  He nodded, his gaze on her mouth.

  “She gets cancer and dies.”

  His eyes widened, and he froze.

  She placed her hand on his arm apologetically. “All the great masterpieces have tragic endings, don’t they? Take all the creative license with the story you want. Good luck with your screenplays. It was nice meeting you, Oliver. I mean that.”

  She left him sitting on th
e step while she slipped soundlessly through the door.

  “You guys don’t look like cousins, you know?” Amanda Brown insisted.

  Elle and Cole looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Sometimes people said the stupidest things.

  It was Friday. Cole’s restrictions had been suspended for a few hours while he and Elle took Kaylie for a walk in the stroller Gretchen had dropped off yesterday. Five minutes into the walk, Elle had discovered that Cole was a chick magnet. Or maybe it was just this way on islands. It wasn’t as if these teenagers could drive to the next town or to a nightclub in the city. Any activity was better than no activity, and the sight of Cole and Elle pushing a baby stroller along the pier on this warm May evening had drawn a small crowd, and most of them were girls.

  Elle was trying to imagine growing up here. More importantly, she was trying to imagine Kaylie growing up here.

  “Some of us are watching a movie over at the Ryans’ later,” Amanda said. “Why don’t you two join us?”

  Cole’s best friend nudged him, but Cole said, “Technically I’m still grounded.”

  “How about you, Elle?” one of the other girls asked.

  They came to the end of the pier and automatically turned around, heading back. “Kaylie’s not much for movies.”

  “Look!” one of the girls whispered. “Here comes that dreamy Oliver Cooper.”

  Elle was looking.

  Riding in the front of a battered lobster boat, he looked like the rest of the crew in flannel shirt and baseball cap. Except he carried a video camera, which he aimed at them.

  The girls practically went into cardiac arrest over a nerd. High-school girls.

  “If that’s the kind of guy you find at college, I’m definitely going.”

  “I heard he’s making a documentary.”

  Cole didn’t say anything, but he looked at Elle. There was something about his smile that reminded her of Dean’s. Tears stung her eyes and it was starting to tick her off. Everything made her feel like weeping these days, and that made her maddest of all.

  Amanda fell into step beside Elle. “I hear that you and Oliver have spent some time together. Are you two, you know, an item?”

  Girls like Amanda Brown could make Elle go from sad to annoyed in two seconds flat. If she hadn’t been so aware of that lobster boat, she would have thanked the girl for her stupidity because being annoyed was better than feeling sad any day. “No. Be my guest,” she said.

  “That’s what I figured,” Amanda said. “What with what you’re facing and all, you know?”

  If she said “you know” one more time, Elle was going to push her off the pier. Hoping to give the fishermen time to tie up the boat and vacate the pier before she got there, Elle slowed to a crawl.

  The others went on ahead. How lucky for Elle, Amanda decided to keep her company.

  “I just want you to know,” the girl said, as if they were best friends suddenly, “I’m rooting for you. Everyone on the island is. My mom says she doesn’t know how your, er, Mya Donahue ever could have given you up. Poor Mr. Laker. Mom says it practically killed him.”

  Elle could hear the blood rushing through her head. “It wasn’t a mutual decision?”

  “Why, no. He wanted to marry Mya and raise you on the island. I thought you knew.”

  Evidently, Elle didn’t know shit. “What difference does it make? What’s done is done.” She felt the lump again, and her fingers shook. She’d assumed Mya and Dean hadn’t been in love, or she’d figured they were too young for that kind of responsibility. They sure acted cozy these days. If they’d been anything like that when they were young, they could have kept her. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t ever actually asked why Mya had given her up.

  Dean had wanted her. That meant it had been Mya’s decision. What was she, too big of an inconvenience?

  The more she thought about it, the more ticked she got. To make matters worse, Oliver waited until they were almost upon him to climb onto the pier. Some of the other kids spoke to him as they passed.

  The other fishermen left. But Oliver stood between her and escape.

  He’d looked at her before without smiling. This was different. He must have known she was waiting for him to leave. He lowered to a piling and made himself comfortable. Not about to let him intimidate her, she held his stupid, piercing gaze.

  “Hi, Oliver,” Amanda crooned on her way by.

  He smiled at Amanda. But he spoke to Elle as she passed.

  “What did he say?” Amanda whispered before they were even out of hearing range.

  “Who cares?” Pushing Kaylie a little faster, Elle didn’t repeat it out loud.

  But he’d said, “Write that story yourself. Come what may.”

  Mya was carrying her sandals when she entered the kitchen Saturday morning. She was surprised to find Elle and Kaylie awake, too. “You two are early birds,” she said, pouring a cup of coffee.

  Elle put Kaylie in the high chair then tried to open the jar of baby food.

  “Da.”

  “I’m hurrying,” Elle said. But she couldn’t loosen the lid.

  “Want some help with that?” Mya opened the jar easily.

  Elle mumbled something that might have passed for “thanks.”

  “Your Grandma Millie and I are catching the first ferry to Portland this morning. I have to do payroll, or I wouldn’t go.”

  “Whatever.”

  Mya looked more closely at the stubborn set of Elle’s chin. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  “What difference does it make to you?”

  Mya slipped into her sandals and fastened her watch. Elle had been snippy last night, too. “We’re going to miss our ferry if we don’t get going. Where’s your Grandma Millie?”

  “Her name is Millie, not Grandma Millie. And how the hell should I know?”

  “Okay, Elle. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  Kaylie ate solemnly, watching them with serious blue eyes.

  Keeping her voice soft and her expression gentle, Mya said, “Are you mad at the world, or just at me?”

  “Why would I be mad at you? You haven’t done anything. Except maybe throw me away. I mean, Dean wanted me, but you probably figured I wasn’t worth the trouble.”

  She finally looked at Mya, and there was such hatred in those dark brown eyes. “Who told you that?”

  Elle laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’re not denying it. What difference does it make who told me?”

  “It wasn’t like that, Elle. Please.”

  The girl jumped up, spun around, out of Mya’s reach. “That’s not what Amanda Brown said. Which part isn’t true? The fact that giving me up was your idea? Or the fact that Dean wanted to marry you and keep me?”

  Elle looked deathly pale. And Mya didn’t know what to do. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want you. It was never that.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what it was then? This I’ve got to hear.”

  Millie entered the kitchen just as Mya opened her mouth to speak, only to close it, the words dying on her tongue. Dressed in red and white, Millicent looked from her daughter to her granddaughter. “What’s going on?”

  Kaylie whimpered. And Elle sat back down. “I didn’t mean to get into this. Nothing’s going on. You’re going to miss the ferry.”

  “I’ll catch the next ferry.”

  Elle dodged Mya’s outstretched hand.

  And Mya was bereft.

  “It came as a shock, is all,” Elle said, without looking at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Elle.”

  “I mean it. I could use a little space today.”

  Mya felt her mother looking at her. But Mya’s attention was trained on Elle. “I thought you and Kaylie were going to spend the day with Sylvia and Gretchen,” Mya said.

  “We are.”

  Meaning she needed a little space from Mya.

  A dozen explanations tore through her mind. And she coul
dn’t voice any of them.

  “Time’s a-wasting,” Elle said, snide even now.

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay today?”

  “I’m peachy, didn’t you know?” Elle looked at Mya and Millie for only a moment. “Just go. Please.”

  That please did it. Although Millicent protested, she and Mya left the summer cottage. Mya’s stomach pitched, and tears wet her face.

  It wasn’t fair.

  But then, when had life ever been fair?

  CHAPTER 14

  I t was almost a typical Saturday night on Keepers Island. More than a dozen people, most related to Dean in one way or another, were gathered at Grady and Gretchen’s house on Waterwheel Road. Three dogs barked, five boys scuffled and Grady and Reed ignored them the way they always did unless something was broken or someone was bleeding.

  Mya and Millie were here tonight, along with Elle and Kaylie. A few weeks ago, Dean wouldn’t have believed it was possible, let alone that it could feel so normal. So right.

  Michael and Brad had finally enticed Elle to toss a football with them, and were ribbing her because she threw like a girl. Elle took the ribbing without comment, which wasn’t like her at all. Something was wrong. Whatever it was had kept Mya quiet all evening, too. Mya didn’t get quiet. When she was pushed into a corner, she came out swinging. Either she and Elle had argued, or they needed to. He hadn’t decided which it was.

  “Dean? Yo. Dean.”

  He grunted something that meant what.

  And Reed said, “You didn’t hear a word I said.”

  “I heard every word you said.” He just couldn’t remember any of them. His gaze wandered back to Mya and Elle.

  “You must be feeling pretty good,” Grady said, slapping him on the back. “Elle and Kaylie are both wearing Red Sox caps tonight. Isn’t that something?”

  It was something, all right.

  Earlier, he’d overheard Elle talking to Cole. “A few hundred years ago the Atlantic was so full of lobsters,” she’d said, “they used to wash up on shore, and the people simply picked them up by the bushelful.” She’d paused. “My father told me that.”

  Her father. Not her birth father. That term always made him feel like a sperm donor. She didn’t call him Dad. That title was reserved for a dignified though obscure man back in Pennsylvania. She’d said her father. The simple distinction had brought a sense of pride and honor, followed by the most humbling sensation.